


Yes, Sir

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Series: 12 days of XXXmas [7]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Malcolm Bright, Degradation, Face-Fucking, Friends to Lovers, Lube, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Subspace, Top JT Tarmel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: A wave of heat flushes over Malcolm's face, his cheeks darkening to a dozen shades of pink, visible even in the dimly-lit alley. He's not sure he's ever been quite so embarrassed before. And the fact that it'sJTwho just discovered his secret stash of lube makes it so, so much worse."Uh. Shit," Malcolm stumbles over his words, unsure of what exactly to say. "I can explain."He really can't.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Series: 12 days of XXXmas [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037679
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Yes, Sir

Malcolm's a lube snob. He's the first to admit it — to his lovers, at least. He goes to great lengths to hide the fact that he has an extensive collection of designer lubes from everyone else. But, since he always likes to be prepared in case the urge to get rogered into next week happens to strike when he's out and about, he's repurposed a small bottle of Purell hand sanitizer to house his go-to lube so he can clandestinely carry his favourite slick with him at all times.

He doesn't even really think about it, it's just a steady weight in the pocket of his wool coat — something he refills regularly (far more regularly than he'd ever admit) and is used often enough that its presence hardly even registers with him anymore.

So when Bright and JT take a header off of a second story roof into a dumpster while in pursuit of a suspect on Christmas Eve, he doesn't even think about the small bottle in his pocket. With a little bit of slipping and a whole lot of cursing, the two men eventually manage to climb their way out of the metal bin, dropping to the ground with a disgusted groan. There is…foreign matter, sticking to both of them, and neither man wants to even think about what they're coated in.

A quick glance down at what was once a pristine custom-tailored suit and overcoat tells him that he must have fallen into the trash of someone who had a very sick toddler at home and decides that his heavy woolen coat, which seems to have caught the worst of it, needs to go. Now. Despite the cold weather, he shrugs it off, careful not to touch the half-solid/half-liquid mess that's streaking one side of the finely tailored garment.

His dry cleaner is going to hate him.

He carefully folds his coat in half — to keep the mess from spreading — and then loops it over his arm, so absorbed in making sure that his suit stays clear of the mess that he fails to notice the small bottle that slips from his pocket to the ground.

He hears JT's grumbled, "Oh, thank God," and is vaguely aware of the man bending over beside him, but it isn't until JT is holding the bottle upside down above his outstretched hand, pouring a generous dollop of the clear liquid into his palm, that Malcolm truly registers what is happening.

"JT, no!" Malcolm shouts, hands flying out to stop him, but it's too late.

JT begins to rub his palms together briskly, liberally spreading the substance all over the front and back of his large hands.

Within seconds, the movements stop as he freezes in place, his arms held away from his body, eyebrows pulling together in disgust as he stares at the slick mess. 

"What. The actual. Fuck," JT growls finally, giving his hands a shake, as if he can get the substance to slide of his skin if he whips his hands hard enough.

It doesn't work.

A wave of heat flushes over Malcolm's face, his cheeks darkening to a dozen shades of pink, visible even in the dimly-lit alley. He's not sure he's ever been quite so embarrassed before. And the fact that it's _JT_ who just discovered his secret stash of lube makes it so, so much worse. 

"Uh. Shit," Malcolm stumbles over his words, unsure of what exactly to say. "I can explain."

He really can't.

JT arches an eyebrow, but Malcolm can't quite work out if he's waiting for said explanation or just staring at him in disbelief. Frankly, it doesn't matter. The only explanation that he can offer is the truth, and that's just not going to happen. Not when he's been pining after JT for months.

"Um. Okay. Maybe I can't explain," his hands fly as he talks, gestures becoming more expansive than usual, a side effect of his crushing nerves. "But! My place is only a few blocks away and you're welcome to come and wash up."

"Mmhmm," rumbles from deep in JT's chest as he steps back and sweeps an arm out, a clear indication for Malcolm to lead the way.

Malcolm attempts to make himself as small as possible as he slinks past JT to head towards the main street that will take them home. They walk in silence the entire way, JT with his chest puffed out and his back ramrod straight, looking every inch the soldier that he is, and Malcolm with his head ducked beside him, his fidgeting hands hidden beneath the soiled jacket draped over his arms, trying to hide the shiver that's developing from the biting December wind.

It takes less than five minutes to walk there, fortunately, and soon Malcolm is unlocking his front door, leaving his shoes and coat just outside the door to avoid bringing the worst of the stench in. JT wordlessly follows suit, shedding his own jacket and toeing off his shoes next to Malcolm's before they head inside.

"Bathroom is through there," Malcolm says to JT’s shoulder, gesturing to the door across the room. "I can grab you some fresh towels if you want to shower."

"No point. I got nothing to change into," JT says as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

Malcolm heads for the closet to grab fresh towels anyway, suspecting JT is going to change his mind when he sees what's splattered on the side of his head. He's just about to knock on the door when it flies open and reveals a disgusted looking JT, who's obviously caught sight of what he looks like.

"Thanks, man," JT says quietly as he takes the towels from Malcolm and twists to put them on the vanity.

"No problem," Malcolm smiles sheepishly, glancing up to meet JT's chocolate brown eyes for just a moment. "If you're not in a hurry, I can throw your clothes in the wash."

It's late enough for them to call it a night, and their suspect was long gone the moment they took the header off the roof. The only place JT has to be at this point is home with his wife, but Malcolm suspects he might be more comfortable with the long ride home if his clothes aren't coated in trash.

"That'd be great," JT says, his lips tugging up at the corners in a way that looks an awful lot like amusement to Malcolm, which only serves to add confusion to the embarrassment that's washing through his system.

"Um. Okay. Great," Malcolm says, internally high-fiving himself for his graceful and eloquent speech patterns. "You can just drop them outside the door here if you want and I'll go throw a load in."

JT stares at him so intently for a moment that Malcolm is sure he's going to catch on fire from the heat that spreads through his body at the intense scrutiny. Just when he thinks he can't take another second of JT's gaze piercing into the depths of his soul, the man nods to himself and then begins to strip.

His fingers deftly undo the buttons of his shirt before he shrugs it off, letting it slide from his muscled arms to the floor, revealing a black t-shirt underneath, stretched taut over his broad chest. Malcolm watches, enraptured, as JT grabs the hem of the t-shirt and drags it over his head, dropping it to the floor on top of his button up.

Malcolm's never seen JT shirtless before and his attraction to the man increases tenfold as his well-defined chest is bared. JT is built so broadly that Malcolm can't help but imagine what it would be like to be held down by the man's powerful arms, at the mercy of his unrelenting strength. He bites down on his lip to keep himself from moaning at the thought.

When JT's hands move down to the button of his trousers, Malcolm's heart skips a beat, and then another, and then begins to hammer in his chest like it's trying to break free from its cage. The slow slide of the zipper steals his breath away and leaves his mouth watering for a taste of what lies beneath. 

He's shocked from his reverie as JT huffs an amused laugh, and Malcolm's gaze darts up from where he'd been unabashedly staring to meet JT's eyes, sparkling with a mirth that softens the typically harsh set of his face.

"Fuck. Sorry," Malcolm stammers, taking a step back and spinning away so quickly that he nearly loses his balance. "I'll just...I should probably...um. Feel free to use whatever you need in the shower. I'll, um, get the washer ready."

He makes a strategic exit up the stairs, refusing to consider it a retreat. Refusing to acknowledge the chuckle that chases him up each step. When he gets to the top, he takes a moment to pace across the length of the room, listening to the sounds of water running through the pipes as JT starts up the shower.

Picturing the burly detective naked and sudsy does nothing to calm him down, so he forces his mind to the task at hand and tosses a detergent tab into the apartment-sized washing machine before running down to grab JT's clothes, which now contains pants, socks, and boxer briefs.

He takes the time to check the tags, making sure nothing is dry clean only (it's not), then strips off his own shirt and socks to add in with JT's clothes and turns the machine on. He drops his forehead to the cool metal and tells himself to get his shit together. JT is a coworker — a happily married (to a beautiful woman!) coworker — and unless he wants to destroy the only decent working relationship he's ever had, he needs to get his head in the game.

When he's feeling a little more centered, he makes his way downstairs, intending to grab a t-shirt to toss on while he waits, but he quickly realizes he must've spent more time upstairs than he thought. The door to the bathroom swings open and JT walks out, skin damp and beautiful, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips.

Malcolm freezes where he stands, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he admires the man's body. Though he's softening around the middle a little, JT still bears the signs of the solid physique he had back in his army days and Malcolm can make out the shape of well defined muscles rippling beneath the miles of skin his eyes are currently raking over.

"Bright," JT says, the clipped tone of his voice making Malcolm want to drop to his knees.

"Yes, sir," Malcolm replies without thinking, and he'd swear he sees a twitch beneath the towel that's covering very little of JT's body.

"Come here." It's an order, not a request, and Malcolm nearly creams his pants at the authority in the man's voice.

His feet carry him over before his mind has caught up and in no time at all, he's standing directly in front of JT, wearing nothing but his very tented trousers and an expression of lust that he couldn't hide even if he wanted to.

"Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," JT says before leaning down slowly to press his lips against Malcolm's. At Malcolm's needy moan, JT smirks and says, "Thought so."

Malcolm's head is spinning as JT steps back, but the detective keeps a warm hand on the side of Malcolm's neck, his thumb resting along Malcolm's jawline, keeping him grounded in the moment.

"Here's what's gonna happen, Bright," JT says, angling Malcolm's face up to look him in the eye. "You're gonna go shower. And you're gonna get yourself nice and clean for me. And then I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you're not gonna be able to walk straight tomorrow."

A shiver rips through Malcolm's body at the promise, nearly knocking him to the floor.

"Do you understand?" JT asks when Malcolm stills.

"Yeah," Malcolm breathes out, impressed with himself for managing even that, but when JT's thumb drifts down from Malcolm's jaw to the front of his throat and presses down, just a little, Malcolm immediately corrects himself, "Yes, sir."

The pressure eases immediately and JT smirks as he says, "Good boy."

A pleasant warmth buzzes through Malcolm's body at the small words of praise, the knowledge that he's pleased JT leaving him tingling all over. He already feels himself being pulled into the other man's orbit, surrendering himself to JT before they've done anything more than one brief kiss.

He's ready to lose himself entirely.

"Get moving, Bright," JT says, a gentle undertone softening the harsh bite of his words.

Malcolm walks unsteadily to the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack in case JT has any further directions for him. He keeps the water tepid, already too overloaded to handle the hot sting of a warm shower. He takes his time to clean himself, _thoroughly_ , and the routine helps to stabilize him and prevent him from falling away too quickly.

He finishes in the shower and slowly dries off, taking enough of a step back that he suddenly remembers that there's a very important question that needs to be answered before things go any further. He hangs his towels on the rack and exits the bathroom, naked and unashamed, clocking JT's presence next to his bed as soon as he opens the door. 

JT is holding one of his sleeping restraints in a light grip, fingering the leather with an understanding written on his face that makes Malcolm's breath catch in his throat. The small gasp draws JT's attention and he turns to face Malcolm, eyes traveling over his exposed body head to toe, expression sealed so tight that even Malcolm can't discover what he's thinking.

"We're not gonna need these," JT surprises Malcolm with the statement, but presses on before Malcolm has a chance to ask. "If I tell you to hold still, you will. If I tell you to keep your hands above your head, you will. When I tell you to come, you will. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, sir." The words fall from his lips so naturally that Malcolm feels as though he should have been saying them his whole life, and he has to fight to keep himself from recklessly slipping into a headspace where he'll stop thinking altogether. 

JT seems to notice his struggle and immediately drops the cuff on the bed and hurries over to Malcolm, setting one hand on his shoulder while the other cups his face. 

"Hey, man, you good?" The concern in JT's voice just makes Malcolm want him even more. Makes him want to turn over everything he is to the man standing in front of him. "We don't have to do this. Just say the word and I'll leave."

The thought makes Malcolm's stomach churn and he reaches up to grip JT's forearms, hoping the touch alone is enough to keep him from leaving.

"I want this," he says, "please." He closes his eyes and sinks into the kiss as JT's lips move against his. When JT pulls away, Malcolm finally manages to voice his concern. "Tally?"

His words are already starting to fail him and he knows he'll be able to manage little more than _yes, sir_ , _no, sir_ , and _please, sir_ soon enough. And there's almost nothing he wants more than that. But he's not willing to destroy a marriage for it.

"Tally," JT smiles and slides his hand into the back of Malcolm's hair, tugging lightly at the strands, "asked me to take pictures, if that's cool with you. But told us to have fun either way. I called her before I showered."

Malcolm closes his eyes and sinks into JT's touch, willing to allow himself to surrender fully, now that he knows Tally is (surprisingly) on board with the whole thing. He makes a mental note to have a sit down with JT and Tally if this turns into anything more than a one time thing, then turns off his brain altogether.

"Mmm. I like you like this, Bright," JT says, moving in close until his lips are grazing over Malcolm's with every word. "So pliant. So good for me."

Malcolm practically purrs beneath him, growing obscenely hard when JT tugs him forward like he weighs next to nothing, their bodies pressed together skin to skin as JT lets his towel drop to the floor. 

"If you wanna stop at any point, you just say stop, okay?" JT murmurs against his ear, nipping at his earlobe when Malcolm doesn't respond right away.

"Yes, sir."

"If I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Do you understand?" JT asks, his voice turning harder, a sharp edge beneath the words as he slips into his own role. 

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We're not gonna do anything crazy tonight. Not until we've negotiated what's okay and what's not," JT says, stilling Malcolm's whine with a finger pressed to his lips. "I'm gonna fuck you. Hard. Is that okay?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm sighs, parting his lips to pull JT's finger into his mouth, running his tongue in circles around the pad of JT's digit, closing his eyes and savouring the feel of something, _anything_ , in his mouth.

JT hums his approval and lets Malcolm suck on his finger for a moment, his free hand drifting down to Malcolm's lower back, a steady strength to keep him grounded. The heat of JT's hand spreads over Malcolm's skin at the touch, warming him to his core. Malcolm can't help the way his tongue chases after JT's finger when he finally pulls it from his mouth.

"I think we can put your mouth to better use, don't you?" JT asks.

Malcolm thinks it may be rhetorical, but he answers nonetheless, a breathy, "Yes, sir," falling from his lips as he falls to his knees in front of JT.

He nearly whimpers as he gets his first look at JT's cock. While slightly above average in length, Malcolm is especially delighted to find that the man is _thick_. It's going to fill him up so perfectly. He licks his lips, wanting to dive in, wanting to taste him. But he waits.

He wants to be good for JT.

"You wanna suck my dick, Bright?" JT runs a hand through Malcolm's hair, gripping it tight and tugging hard enough to crane Malcolm's neck back, forcing his eyes from the cock in front of him to JT's face. At Malcolm's attempt at a nod, JT says, "So do it."

As soon as the grip on his hair is relaxed enough to move, Malcolm is lunging forward, mouth stretched wide and ready to take as much of JT as he possibly can. His hands dart to the base of the half-hard cock in front of him, wrapping around the thick shaft and stroking lightly as his mouth closes in over the head. As much as he wants to feel the full length sliding along his tongue and down his throat, he forces himself to slow down, to savour the feeling, to really taste JT. With shallow bobs of his head, he works just the tip of JT's cock, his tongue alternatively running circles and flicking at the tip, dipping into the slit, chasing after what he wants the most.

"Fuck, Bright," JT says as his grip in Malcolm's hair tightens, sparking visions in Malcolm's mind of JT forcing his head forward, thrusting down his throat while he controls Malcolm's every move, choking him with his cock until his lungs are screaming for air. The moan that slips from his mouth is entirely unintentional, but the vibrations through JT's cock have the man dropping his other hand to Malcolm's hair as well, as JT's hips jerk forward in an aborted attempt to fuck his face, the man's exceptional self-restraint holding him back from what he so obviously wants. "Jesus, look at you with your lips stretched around my dick. Like you were made for this."

He feels like he was. Like he was made to be used by JT, made to service JT. He sinks even deeper into the feeling of tranquility that's settling over him, losing himself in the euphoria that's usually so hard to find, that he usually needs to pay a Dom a substantial amount of money to reach. He'd be shocked how easily he's slipping into it now if he had the presence of mind to really consider it.

"You want me to fuck your mouth, Bright?" JT asks, tugging lightly at Malcolm's roots as he rocks his hips, his cock just barely bumping the back of Malcolm's throat with each roll, leaving Malcolm desperate for more, desperate for anything and everything JT chooses to give him. JT pulls out of Malcolm's mouth, keeping a firm grip of his hair to keep Malcolm from chasing after his cock like he so obviously wants to do.

When Malcolm doesn't answer JT right away, JT gives a harsh tug to Malcolm's hair, the sensation shooting straight to Malcolm's throbbing cock, precum beading on the tip and dribbling down onto his thigh.

"Yes, sir," Malcolm moans, "Please, sir."

JT chuckles at the eager and pleading response, giving Malcolm's hair one last yank for good measure before he loosens his grip enough so there's no longer a sharp ache in Malcolm's skull.

He misses it immediately.

"Three taps if you want me to stop," JT murmurs and then guides his cock back into Malcolm's mouth, fisting his hair to take complete control of Malcolm's head. After a few experimental pumps to give Malcolm time to adjust, JT begins to thrust in earnest, jerking Malcolm's head forward with every snap of his hips, forcing his cock into the tight ring of Malcolm's throat.

Within minutes, Malcolm is choking and sputtering, his eyes filling with tears that spill over and run down his cheeks as he gasps for breath around the punishing pace that JT sets. His mouth floods with saliva that he's unable to swallow, JT's thick cock blocking the passage, leaving trails of spit dripping from the corners of his mouth.

It's perfect.

He drops his hands to the back of JT's thighs, feeling the power in the play of the man's muscles, hamstrings flexing and tightening beneath Malcolm's palms with every thrust into his mouth. Malcolm feels himself slipping away, the warm glow inside of him expanding and consuming him until he feels as though he's nothing but a vessel for JT to fill.

He doesn't know how long JT slams into his throat, but by the time he pulls out, Malcolm's face is a mess of tears and saliva, and he's lightheaded with oxygen deprivation. JT's hands slide from his hair to his shoulders, steadying him when he nearly topples over at the sudden absence of JT's cock in his mouth.

"Fuck, Bright," JT says, panting with exertion and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "You're fucking perfect."

JT drops down to one knee in front of Malcolm, reaching over to grab the towel as soon as he's down. With a gentleness that surprises Malcolm, even in his floaty, blissed-out headspace, JT carefully wipes the wetness from his face, holding Malcolm steady the entire time. When he's satisfied, he leans in and presses his lips to Malcolm's, as gentle with the kiss as he was with the towel, and Malcolm mewls at the tenderness.

"Come on, man," JT says quietly, pushing himself to his feet. He practically pulls Malcolm upright and leads him over to the bed, situating him on his back in the middle of the bed. "Condoms? Lube?"

It takes a second for Malcolm to process the words —time he spends looking up at JT with a dopey, fucked-out grin on his face — and then he points to the top drawer of his dresser.

JT stalks over and pulls open the drawer, eyebrows shooting up when he sees the expansive selection of designer lubes that line the entire drawer. "Dude, there's gotta be fifty bottles in here. What the fuck?"

He looks to Malcolm with an amused smile on his face, but clearly recognizes that Malcolm is in no fit state to offer an explanation at the moment, so he merely turns back and skims the labels, searching for something unflavoured and silicone-based, safe for use with a condom. He finds one in short order and grabs a condom from the stash at the side, as well.

"Guess I'm understanding the little bottle of lube in your pocket now," JT says as he makes his way back to the bed. He stops next to the mattress, eyes raking over Malcolm's body, lingering on his cock, hard and flushed and dripping a steady stream of precum, even still. "God, you really are a little cock slut, aren't you?"

A deep pleasure blooms in Malcolm, tendrils of lust curling around his spine as it spreads through him, leaving his entire body trembling at the words. 

"Oh," JT breathes out as he watches the reaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you, bro?"

JT drops the lube on the bed, the bottle rolling into Malcolm's hip, startling him with the cold press of the container against his heated skin. The towel drops next to it and then JT is crawling onto the bed, nudging Malcolm's legs open so he can settle between them on his knees. Sitting back on his feet, JT starts to stroke his already rock-hard cock with firm, quick jerks that leave the man grunting quietly along with the stroke of his hand.

He ignores Malcolm completely. 

Malcolm squirms on the bed, needing JT's attention on him, needing JT's hands and mouth on him, but JT just continues to work his cock. The whimper that slips from Malcolm's lips is what finally grabs JT's attention, his gaze focusing laser sharp on Malcolm, stilling his movements immediately. 

"Put your hands above your head and keep them there," JT orders and Malcolm hurries to comply, reaching up to wrap his fingers around the edge of the mattress, his knuckles going white with the force he uses to hold on. "Now sit still."

JT's eyes flutter closed as he picks up pace, working his cock with long, hard strokes as Malcolm stares down the length of his body, wanting, needing, _drowningsuffocatingdying_.

He tries to stay still, to do as he's told, but his hips begin a slow grind into the air above him, searching for friction that he'll never find and his whimpers become progressively louder.

When JT's eyes find his this time, there's an edge of steel glinting in his gaze that makes Malcolm's breath catch in his lungs. "There seems to be some misunderstanding," JT says slowly, enunciating each word. "You seem to think that what you want matters. It doesn't."

Malcolm's body sinks into the bed as JT speaks, his tense muscles relaxing at the confirmation that he's JT's to use as he wishes.

"You're a warm hole for me to use, nothing more," JT states so matter-of-factly that there's really no room for argument. Not that Malcolm wants to argue. Instead, he lets the words blanket him, wrapping him up securely and making him feel claimed. "If I decide to fuck you, It'll be because I want to. It won't matter if you come or not."

The sound of the condom wrapper tearing open is a background noise that means very little to Malcolm at this point. The lube cap popping open registers more clearly, but he's floating in a haze of endorphins and can't be bothered to put two and two together.

"You're nothing more than a cum-dump, Bright," JT says as slicked up fingers find their way to Malcolm's hole, rubbing gently until the muscle relaxes enough for a finger to easily slide inside. "Your body is mine to use, to fill up however I want."

A second finger is added right as Malcolm begins to think how nice it would be to have something more inside of him and he moans quietly as JT pumps his fingers in and out, scissoring him open. A third finger follows in short order and Malcolm is quite certain he's never felt better in his life.

"Jesus, how are you so tight? I'd expect a little cock-slut like you to be loose and gaping, but look at the way you squeeze around my fingers." JT says, twisting his hand while he's buried deep in Malcolm's hole. "I'm gonna wreck you, Bright. Gonna fuck your greedy little hole so hard that you'll be ruined for anyone else."

_Yes, yes, yes,_ Malcolm thinks to himself. What comes out is a wanton moan that he would probably be embarrassed of at any other time.

"Is that what you want, Bright? Want me to ruin you for anyone's cock but mine? Keep you tied up in my bed to use your mouth and your ass whenever I want?" JT's fourth finger slides in so easily that it's only a few pumps before he pulls his hand out, leaving Malcolm empty and aching to be filled.

He drops his bleary gaze to find JT pouring lube onto his cock, spreading it with a few perfunctory strokes before wiping his hand on the towel and shuffling forward, lifting Malcolm's legs until his knees are damn near pressed to his shoulders, baring his hole for JT to do whatever he pleases.

"Keep your hands above your head. Your body is mine to touch, not yours," JT says, waiting for Malcolm's drunken nod before he lets his cock run over Malcolm's hole, teasing with the light touch that refuses to breach Malcolm the way he wants. Malcolm moans and writhes beneath him, inarticulate wailing pleas spilling from his lips, words failing him entirely. 

"God, look at you," JT says, letting the head of his cock trail along Malcolm's crack, the tip catching on his rim with every other pass. "Such a needy little whore."

When Malcolm feels the head of JT's cock finally, _finally_ , press against his hole, the tip just poking through the ring of muscle, the struggle leaves him entirely and he becomes boneless and pliant beneath JT, knowing that JT is going to fuck into him. Going to claim him.

"You're fucking perfect, Bright," JT gives his thighs a squeeze before he practically growls, "I'm gonna destroy you."

JT thrusts in so hard that Malcolm's vision whites out for a second or two, and when he comes back to himself, JT is pistoning almost violently into his body, his massive length brushing over Malcolm's prostate with every thrust.

Malcolm lets out a keening cry, his hands scrambling to keep hold of the mattress above his head as his body is jerked up and down on JT's cock. JT's powerful thighs bracket his hips, giving him a steady point of contact to keep from shattering into a thousand pieces as JT fulfils all of his promises. 

The harsh sounds of their panting breaths, interspersed with Malcolm's howls and JT's litany of _ohfuckyeahungh_ , fill the room, broken only by the sound of skin on skin as JT's body slams against Malcolm's, and the squelch of the lube that keeps them moving so smoothly. 

Malcolm loses himself in the sensation, praying only that it lasts forever, that all of eternity is spent with JT ploughing into him, fucking him so hard that he would swear he can feel it as far up as his throat. 

The pleasure builds and swells, but his release is a distant thought that he pays no mind to. All he wants is to be good for JT and for this to last forever. 

JT on the other hand, seems to be chasing his own release with a single-minded focus as he jackhammers into Malcolm, sweat dripping from his face onto Malcolm's skin, leaning into Malcolm so hard that Malcolm's folded completely in half.

Orgasm catches Malcolm completely by surprise. It's nothing like his usual orgasms, localized and intense. Instead, he feels it through every pore of his body, sinking into his bones and exploding from the deepest reaches of his soul. There's no beginning. No end. Just a surge of pleasure so powerful that he thinks he may have left his body altogether. 

He hears JT, vaguely, but can't quite latch onto the words he's saying, too lost in his ecstasy to focus his attention. It's not until JT abruptly pulls out and strips the condom off, letting Malcolm's legs fall to the side as he leans over him, his hand stripping his bared cock with an urgency that Malcolm has never seen in the man, that Malcolm begins to register his surroundings.

JT's lips smash against his, a sloppy kiss that neither of them can really keep up with, but soon Malcolm feels JT's spend hot on his belly and sighs at the feeling, physical proof that he's pleased the man above him, as if the loud grunts weren't enough.

Malcolm wants to wrap his arms around JT and pull him close, going so far as almost draping them around JT's neck before he remembers the command to keep his hands above his head and drops them back with a small cry.

"Shh," JT hushes him, "it's okay. You did so good, Bright. You can let go now."

He wraps his arms around JT's neck as JT wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him to the side, rolling them both over so JT is on his back and Malcolm is curled up against his side, half on the larger man's chest. Within seconds, the warmth of Malcolm's quilt is covering them both, thoroughly warming him before he even registers that he's cold.

"Jesus, Bright," JT whispers into the quiet of the loft as he gently runs his hand through Malcolm's hair, pressing soft kisses to his head between the words. "That was amazing. _You_ were amazing."

Malcolm does his best to burrow into JT's side, wishing he could crawl into the man's body and stay there forever. The way JT's hand cards through his hair while his other hand lightly trails up and down Malcolm's arm is nearly as good, though, and Malcolm finds himself slowly coming down, yielding to the inexorable pull back into his body, knowing that JT is there to take care of him, to hold him together.

JT appears to be in no rush, giving Malcolm all the time he needs to come back to himself, whispering quiet words of encouragement the entire time. The words themselves don't really matter, but the low and continuous tones of JT's voice lets Malcolm know it's safe to come back.

"Mmmmm. S'nice." It's not much, but it's the most coherent thing he's managed in a while.

"I gotta tell you, man," JT says, smile evident in his voice, "if I'd known that a good fuck was all it took to get you to stop talking, I would've done this months ago."

The corners of Malcolm's lips tug up in a smile and JT obviously feels it where Malcolm's face is pressed against his chest, the low rumble of a chuckle reverberating beneath Malcolm's cheek. 

JT holds him until he shifts to bury his face in the crook of JT's neck, then he plants a kiss on Malcolm's temple and says, "Come on, bro. Lets go get cleaned up before you get too comfortable."

Frankly, Malcolm would be more than happy to lay there, covered in come, for the rest of the night. But in the back of his mind, he knows JT is right and doesn't fight it. They make quick work of showering, JT's hands cleaning every inch of his skin with a tenderness that makes Malcolm blush.

Cleaned, dried, and with a brief stop in the kitchen for some water (which JT follows with a kiss and a _good boy_ that has Malcolm flushing with a warmth he hasn't felt in a very long time) and another upstairs to switch the laundry, they're back in Malcolm's bed soon enough that it still holds their heat.

"We were supposed to take pictures," Malcolm says around a yawn, thoroughly exhausted.

"It's fine, I'll give Tally a play by play," JT grins. He pulls Malcolm close and kisses him lightly, "I'm gonna need to get going soon, though; we have Tally's folks coming for Christmas brunch tomorrow. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine" he says, and surprisingly, he actually means it. He thinks he might actually even sleep for more than a couple of hours. "This was...nice."

"That was anything but 'nice', bro," JT laughs, belly-deep and echoing through the loft. "But I'd be up for a repeat performance if you are. Though you, me, and Tally'd have to sit down and hash some shit out first."

"I'd like that," Malcolm smiles shyly up at JT, adding a quiet, "a lot."

"Me, too," JT smiles back, lazily trailing his fingers up and down Malcolm's spine. 

Malcolm drifts off to the sound of JT's beating heart, so deeply asleep that he doesn't even stir when JT quietly leaves, dropping a kiss to Malcolm's head before he goes. 

When he wakes the next morning, he's well rested and pleasantly sore. He luxuriates in bed for a while, focusing on the aches throughout his body and deep inside, before carefully pulling himself to his feet and making his way to Sunshine's cage.

"Merry Christmas, Sunshine," he smiles. 

And for once, he thinks to himself, it just may be.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to KateSamantha for looking this one over and providing some much needed encouragement. Also, for providing the offhand prompt of Malcolm carrying his favourite lube in a repurposed Purell container 😂


End file.
